


For Your Drink Today I Recommend: You Give Me Your Number

by QueenThayet



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Banter, Based on a Tumblr Post, M/M, because bacteria, coffee shop AU, don't actually hit on your barista, proper hand washing before handling food, unintentional alliteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7271398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenThayet/pseuds/QueenThayet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur owns a coffee shop. He is "hella gay" and "desperately single." Ariadne makes these facts known on the specials board. Eames comes into the coffee shop, sees Arthur's tight trousers and the sign: flirting ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Your Drink Today I Recommend: You Give Me Your Number

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this post on my dash on tumblr  
> http://kate2kat.tumblr.com/post/146250397573/brolininthetardis-this-is-a-coffeeshop-au
> 
> The first couple paragraphs appeared fully formed in my brain so I wrote it up quickly on tumblr. This is a slightly edited version (removed typos, added a couple lines).

It’s not until the end of the day when he’s starting to close that Arthur finally understands why guys kept giving him their numbers. He shakes his head as he bends over to erase the chalkboard. 

“Dammit Ariadne, I don’t need your help finding a date,” Arthur calls toward the back. 

“All evidence thus far would point to the contrary,” Ariadne responded. “How many numbers do you think you would have gotten today if I hadn’t made that sign?”

“Zero, because our customers aren’t monsters and know better than to proposition someone at his place of work!”

“Well, that’s a crying shame then, luv, because with that arse you should definitely be propositioned regularly.”

Arthur hadn’t heard the shop’s door open. He glanced up at the British accent to see a man with lively eyes, a truly appalling shirt, and a mouth that should be illegal grinning at him. 

“Are you closed, darling, or can I still get some coffee?” 

“We’ve still got…” Arthur checked his watch “Ten minutes. What can I get you?” He stood up and went back behind the counter to wash his hands, ignoring the ‘luv’ and the ‘darling’ and that obscene mouth. He was a professional. 

“A large dark roast, black. And maybe the recommended drink if it’s still available.” The British man waggled his eyebrows in a way that was probably supposed to be suggestive, but ended up being kind of ridiculous. “Or would that make me a monster for propositioning you at your place of work?” The man mimicked Arthur’s tone and delivery as he repeated his earlier complaint. 

Arthur suppressed an eyeroll. “It would be a bit presumptuous since I don’t even know your name.” He turned around to set up the pour-over filter for a large dark roast. 

“Aren’t you supposed to take it for my cup, darling?” 

Arthur looked around exaggeratedly at the empty shop. “So that you don’t get your order confused with someone else’s?” He raised an eyebrow slightly.   
“That will be two dollars and it will be ready in a couple minutes.” Arthur poured the hot water over the ground beans in the filter, before turning back to the cash register. 

“Ooh, rebuffed, I see. Well, you’re quite right, it is the absolute height of rudeness to proposition someone at his place of work. Even if he has a sign requesting it.” The man handed over a five dollar bill, accepted his change and reciept and dropped a dollar in the tips jar. 

“Thanks,” Arthur said automatically. Then he removed the pour-over filter, put a lid on the to-go cup, and handed it to his flirty British customer. “Here you go, large dark roast, black. Enjoy.”

“Thanks, luv. Maybe I’ll run into you outside your place of work so I can give you my name and number, then.”

“Maybe,” Arthur smiled, despite himself. He allowed himself a quick look as the sexy British man walked out the door. He checked his watch again, locked the door and flipped the sign to closed, and finished cleaning up and closing down the shop. 

Ariadne was looking at him in shock as he carried a tub of dishes back to the dishwasher. “Are you…whistling?” 

“What?” Arthur asked. 

“Oh my god, you’re whistling! You liked him! Why didn’t you take his number?!? Why didn’t you even get his NAME?!?”

“If he’s really interested, he’ll come back. I don’t need a personal ad on my specials board to get dates. I should fire you for that.” Arthur glared at Ariadne. 

Apparently his glare lacked sufficient heat, because she just laughed and said “You’ll never fire me. I'm your most reliable worker. You know you love me. And I'm just looking out for you. If you spend 15 hours a day here, how are you ever going to meet someone?”

“Yes, well…shush,” was Arthur’s witty rejoinder. 

He locked up and walked out the back toward his car. The sun was just starting to drop on the warm summer night, the air still warm and humid compared the the air conditioned coffee shop. Arthur saw the British man with the sexy mouth drinking his coffee and looking studiously at one of the historical information that populated downtown. 

“Is this enough outside your place of work to proposition you, darling?”

Arthur stopped and stared at him.

“Is this creepy? You said 'maybe’ so I thought, perhaps… I just... I didn’t even get your name. I’m Eames.” The flirty Brit seemed suddenly unsure of himself. 

“I’m Arthur,” Arthur responded dryly. 

“Arthur as in…?” Eames gestured toward the sign that said “Arthur’s” spelled out in the steam rising from a coffee cup above the back door of the coffee shop. 

“Yep.” Arthur couldn’t stop staring at the man's –Eames’– mouth as he took sips of his coffee, not quite believing that he was still here. And still interested. 

“So I wasn’t just propositioning some random barista? I was propositioning the proprietor. Oh I quite like that. Propositioning the proprietor!” Eames looked delighted at his unintentional alliteration. 

Arthur found himself smiling at the man's -Eames’, he told himself again–enthusiasm. 

“Oh darling, dimples?! Now I have to give you my number! You must give me a chance to see those dimples again!” 

Eames grinned and wrote his name and number on the back of his receipt. 

“Maybe,” Arthur said again, grinning. 

“That’s all I ask, luv. Call me maybe!” Eames walked off, whistling the catchy pop tune as Arthur stared at the number in his hand. Arthur got into his car, and then got out his cell phone. 

“Hi, Eames? It's Arthur. We met at my coffee shop today, would you be interested in going out sometime?”

“Darling! You called! Of course! When?”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Going to dinner with this handsome bloke I met at his coffee shop.”

Arthur grinned again. Maybe Ariadne’s sign hadn’t been so terrible after all


End file.
